you married and properly settled in life. I want to end this
disgrace. I want to save you from becoming ridiculous and
contemptible--an object of laughter and of pity."

"You want to see me married to some man I dislike and should soon
hate."

"I want to see you married," retorted the old lady. "I can't be
held responsible for your electing to hate whatever is good for
you. And I came to tell you that my patience is about exhausted.
If you are not engaged by the end of this season, I wash my hands
of you. I have been spending a great deal of money in the effort
to establish you. You are a miserable failure socially. You attach
only worthless men. You drive away the serious men."

"Stupid, you mean."

"I mean serious--the men looking for wives. Men who have something
and have a right to aspire to the hand of MY grandchild. The only
men who have a right to take the time of an unmarried woman. You
either cannot, or will not, exert yourself to please. You avoid
young girls and young men. You waste your life with people already
settled. You have taken on the full airs and speech of a married
woman, in advance of having a husband--and that is folly bordering
on insanity. You have discarded everything that men--marrying
men--the right sort of men--demand in maidenhood. I repeat, you
are a miserable failure."

"A miserable failure," echoed Margaret, staring dismally into the
glass.